Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak of the chains a constant, jarring reminder. His gaze was fixed on the cherrywood armoire his mother wanted to sell. The armoire’s gleaming finish reflected the setting sun, making it appear almost alien. The memories poured over him: hiding in its spacious interior as a child, the scent of lavender from the linens within. His breath hitched as he ran his hands over his face. He felt a profound sense of loss, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Each breath felt labored, as if the air itself was too heavy to carry.